


Truth or Dare

by blowmeharry



Series: Games [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Awkwardness, Body Shots, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2013-02-09
Packaged: 2017-11-28 18:45:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/677653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blowmeharry/pseuds/blowmeharry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reality AU - Louis and Harry of One Direction have the hots for each other, and all it takes for them both to realize that is a game of Truth or Dare gone too far.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Truth or Dare

"We really should hit the sack," Louis insists, always the leader in the group. "Tomorrow's a long day.

Niall's shot glass hits the table with a precise smack, a gasp of relief escaping his mouth. He smiles, very pleased with himself. "Seven."

"How are you even breathing right now?" Louis scans the boy's body for any signs of intoxication, and finds it incredible, almost impossible, that Niall is somehow managing to sit upright with his body only shaking slightly. One thing about Niall to always keep in mind is that he's _not_ a lightweight.

"Here." Niall pours him a shot.

"No, thanks. I'm not really in the mood to destroy my body with toxins tonight. My mornings don't agree with it either."

Niall shrugs. "It's just tequila."

"Exactly, that shit will kill me. And don't forget we have two interviews tomorrow. Have fun being grumpy, I'm sure that will do wonders for our fans—” Louis turns sharply to the direction of the door to see the youngest member of the band, and his favourite, to be painfully honest, standing there with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He raises an eyebrow, staring at them both, and does a sort of smolder.

"You're having a party without me?"

Niall shrugs. "You weren't here."

"But it's my room. Who invited you?"

"Nobody," Louis responds, fixing his fringe. "The twat let himself in."

"Hey, not all of us get to share rooms," Niall points out, but grins wickedly when he notices the remaining irritated expression Harry's wearing. "You’re off your nut, I didn't lay a finger on your man. Can't say the same for him, though. I'm fuckin’ charming, can you blame him?"

Louis rolls his eyes, unsuspectingly finding himself lifting a glass to his lips.

Harry, still looking completely out of it, doesn't say anything. Though he'll never admit it, he's had an absolute shit day for more reasons than one. Most of the time his negative thinking is spent on how much he misses his family, the hate he receives as well as the rumours, but mostly, it's just...complicated. And the complications tracing back to one and only source: Louis.

It isn't that Harry _hates_ being around his bandmate, because he loves Louis, he really does. It's just that sometimes things can get really heated in Harry's mind, in more ways than one. Their days off revolve around an endless cycle of Harry pining for free time with Louis, Louis giving him some shitty excuse, like leaving him to spent time with his girlfriend or finally agreeing to hang out with him and never reaching Harry's expectations. Harry's had a crush on him from the second he saw him walking into the toilet with Harry's junk right then and there. It was an odd first impression, but it led to many more, and now they're the very best of mates.

Nevertheless, it's too often now that conflict arises simply with Louis' presence. Harry would usually hide himself and his feelings from Louis by avoiding personal confrontation, always neglecting his deepest thoughts and emotions. However, there's only a certain extent one can reach before completely disconnecting from the rest of the world. Harry can't remember a time where he's been comfortable talking about his life to anyone, every impulsive thought and unattainable desire out of his reach, trapped in the far breeches of his mind. All because Harry likes Louis. His bandmate. His best friend. A boy.

"I said, are you okay?" He hears Louis say, his eyebrows scrunched to his eyes with clear worry.

"Oh, uh, yeah. Just tired. Yeah," Harry feeds him the clichéd excuse, though it's not a total lie; it's truly been a long day and he's ready to rest his eyes.

Louis doesn't look convinced, but he doesn't act on saying anything further, instead perching his hands around the empty shot glass.

"Lime and salt," Niall says excitedly. "Know where I can get some?"

Though his accent is sometimes hard to read through, it's nearly impossible now with his words slurring together, so that his phrase comes out more like _know 'er uh can ges'um?_

"There's salt in the kitchen, dunno about the lime. What do you need it for?" Harry addresses the same question Louis has.

Niall doesn't answer, instead scampering off to the designated area, loud crashes heard from the living room. Surprisingly, Niall returns seconds later with two limes and a salt shaker in hand. He sets them down on the table next to three half empty bottle, and the wild look in his eyes makes the other boys question ever staying in suites that involved mini fridges filled with all kinds of alcohol for Niall to prey on.

He continues to smile, like this is the most exciting thing in the world. While he had looked sober a few minutes ago, he's shaking now, his pupils dilated, his face bright red.

"Let's play truth or dare," he randomly suggests, causing the other boys to frown.

Louis tries to remind him, "Niall, we—"

"Sure," Harry agrees before he can finish.

Louis' expression blanks as he glances at Harry for any uncertainty, and shrugging when he doesn't see anything.

“Lemme just find my—my, my computer, right. That’s what it is.” The blonde-haired lad nods his head repetitively, peeling himself away from the boys and into the bedrooms. Only then do Louis and Harry hear him groan in anguish and swear at the top of his lungs, “Oi, some fuckin’ gobshite took it!”

Louis looks at Harry and sighs, fully aware of the extent of Niall’s alcohol concentration levels; once he’s reached the stage of bizarre Irish swearing, all hope is lost.

Trying to snap some sense into the poor bloke, he hollers, “Niall! This is our room, remember?”

“Right!” he hollers back. “Can I brow?”

“What?”

“Can I borrow your laptop?” But the second he asks for consent, he’s parading into the room with the black machinery tucked under his arms, tripping over his feet.

“Be careful,” Louis warns him, as Niall drops it flatly on coffee table.

“It’s a Window XP, what does it matter?” Harry points out diligently, which causes Louis to smile just a little.

“Alright, alright, it has a password,” Niall manages to get the words out carefully. “It’s probably ‘Harry.’”

Louis blushes, if that’s saying anything with his already-heated cheeks from his quick intake of the tequila. “Twat. Don’t look.” He types in the password, making sure Niall’s eyes were averted away from the screen; however, he hasn’t a care for Harry’s wandering eyes.

“Okay, let’s start with you.” _Les’tar withoo._ “Louis, truth or dare?”

“Umm…truth.” Louis blanks out for a second, not entirely certain with his choice. “Yeah, truth.”

“Are you a virgin?” Tonight Niall isn’t holding anything back.

And neither is Louis, who’s working his way to a sweet buzz. That can’t be said the same for Harry, who’s keeping to himself, his eyes widened with Niall’s intruding question.

“No.”

Harry continues gaping, his entire being in deep awe.

Niall shrugs. “I already knew that.”

Harry didn’t.

“Your turn, Louis.”

“Okay. Um, Harry.” He turns to the still-shocked boy and smiles, seeing as there are only three of them playing this game. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” he responds quickly. “No, dare. No, that’s a bad idea. No, no, truth.”

Louis smirks proudly. “Who do you fancy?”

Harry immediately raises a brow, crossing his arms. “How original. I didn’t expect that at all.”

His insulting words don’t faze Louis, who’s still grinning wildly. Niall, on the other hand, is clicking away on the computer.

“Well? Won’t you answer it?”

Harry looks down, feeling his cheeks grow hot, his heart racing with anticipation. He tries to hide the look of shame, but it’s especially difficult with the striking blue orbs pouring over him. Harry wishes he was drunk.

“Pour me a shot, yeah?” he asks Louis, his voice painfully soft.

“After you answer.”

Harry lets out a sharp breath. “Nobody.”

“Liar.”

“It’s true,” he tries to convince him, his voice uncharacteristically shaky. “We’re working all the time, it’s probably impossible to find someone at times like these. Ask Niall.”

“What?” Niall’s head perks up, looking absolutely lost.

“Nothing, you’re beautiful,” Harry tells him, causing him to grin with flattery and revert his attention back to the screen.

“Oh, I see now. You like Niall.”

“No!” Harry halfway-shouts. “I like him as a friend, a brother, but nothing more.”

Louis snickers, shaking his head. He ruffles a hand through his wavy locks, and Harry wonders how one human was capable of such beauty. “I see you’re still in the stage of denial. Good thing Niall isn’t paying attention. It’ll be our little secret, I promise.”

“Sod off,” Harry says, only contributing to Louis’ point. He rolls his eyes and stands up, heading over to the kitchen to grab a glass. “I’ll get it myself.”

“Aw, you didn’t have to, I could have—”

“Leave it.” The younger boy waves a hand at his face.

“Ah, yes! The fucker’s gone into jail! Bastard deserved it!”

Harry shakes his head, trying to make some sense of what Niall is up to behind that computer screen. He finds he doesn’t particularly care, though, considering the boy’s vision is probably clouded and useless.

Harry brings a bottle of tequila (Or is it rum? He isn’t paying attention.) and three glasses to them, pouring himself his desired shot. As he takes the first one, he thinks to himself, _this one’s for Louis._

“Niall,” Harry speaks after the burning sensation settled in his throat. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” he replies without even a glance.

"Hmm..." Harry presses his fingers to his lips, thinking thoroughly about what he should have Niall do. Finally the idea pops in his head, and he smirks with excitement. "Get a camera, Horan. You're gonna be a star."

"What? I'm already a star." Niall tilts his head a little, but obeys Harry nonetheless. He returns to him promptly holding a Canon digital video camera, the type one would buy to make documentaries; the price isn't exactly the problem for the biggest boy band in the world.

"How does this work again?" Harry frowns, struggling to turn it on. Louis sighs beside him and presses the button to the side, Harry's crumpled forehead surfacing back to normal. "Oh."

"What now?" Niall demands, though he's staring at the ceiling and not really in it.

"Sing _The Star Spangled Banner_ dramatically." Right away, Louis is in hysterics at the dare, and Harry himself is struggling to keep a straight face.

"So you want me to make a holy show of myself?" The Irishman whines; still, he complies with a sigh. He shrugs. "But I dunno the lyrics."

"I got this." And right away, Harry has the lyrics of the traditional song displayed on the computer screen, his smile not breaking away from his face for a second. "It's all you now."

Niall grins brightly, laughing as he clears his throat. He starts to stand up, but he's uncertain of how this will be done. "Do I stand or..."

Harry shares a look of amusement with Louis before they both turn back with a simultaneous "yes."

"Ladies and, well, that's all there is tonight, ha." Niall giggles at that, his mouth widening from the smile evenly displayed on his face. "I present to you the song of my country, no, just lettin' on, just listen, okay? I'm way too langered for this, but who gives a fuck. I'm a sad man, it's true. But I would like to sing for you tonight, bear with me." Harry makes out the Irish slang the best he can and laughs, continuing to maintain the camera at a good angle. He clears his throat for the last time. "Oh, say can you see!"

The other two band mates struggle to keep their laughter contained throughout the entirety of the dare, but the second they're done recording, they're giggling like young school girls, to the point where there are tears in their eyes. They just can't get past Niall singing drunk, more-so attempting to sing a traditional American song way out of his vocal range. Harry had, in fact, counted his voice cracking about six times; an attempt had been made today.

"Louis," Niall says, his voice still breathy from all the laughter. "Truth or dare?"

"Dare," Louis responds instantly, his eyes beaming with excitement. He's just in such a good mood that he's willing to do literally anything to entertain himself and his friends. He considers the dares in his mind, deciding it will either be something equally as embarrassing as Niall's dare or something that will involve some heavy drinking and courage to pull through.

"Take a shot of Harry," he speaks rather quickly.

"What?"

"Take a shot off Harry," Niall repeats, this time sounding much clearer.

"What?" Louis still doesn't understand. "What do you mean, exactly?"

Niall lets out a deep breath, staring at Louis like he's the dumbest person he's never had the displeasure to meet. "You know what body shots are, yeah?"

"Yeah?" And then it hits him. _Oh_. "Oh." Despite the comfortable buzz he's been maintaining thus far, it all goes straight to his head, as well as his blood, his face now a deep scarlet.

"And I'll record it."

"Fuck," Louis mutters, but begins giggling when he makes eye contact with Harry, who's laughing too. "Niall, you're off your nut."

"Yeah, yeah, maybe. Now enough jabber, get to it.”

Louis shrugs; he might as well get this done and over with. Harry seems more than happy to comply, pouring some tequila into a shot glass. Though Louis isn’t fully sober, Harry is, and his hands are trembling just slightly that he spills some of the liquid onto the table as he struggles to hurry. His face is red from taking that shot several minutes ago, but he’s undoubtedly wound up; every part of him hot and bothered with the realisation of what was to expect.

“I don’t really know what to do,” Louis admits, though he’s not too nervous. He’s done this before at the countless parties in his youth, but never to a boy. Never Harry. On the other hand, he’s witnessed girls doing shots off each other’s bodies, without it becoming too personal. This most definitely should apply to his case.

“I’ll walk you through it, don’t ya worry,” Niall assures him, holding the camera in one hand and typing with the other. He looks intrigued, his eyes scanning the blue on the screen. All at once some club-dubstep song began playing loudly from Niall’s Pandora Radio account.

“Ready?” Niall questions them, sounding a little evil underneath his disheveled state. He doesn’t wait for them to nod or show any sign of approval as he turns on the camera and focuses it on the two. He starts recording, Harry and Louis staring at lens, as if unsure whether they were being filmed.

“Harry,” Niall begins to direct them. “Take off your shirt.”

The boy does as he’s told, slipping off his Ramones t-shirt without a second to spare. He wasn’t feeling nervous at first—he _was_ only taking off his shirt—but now that his chest is out and exposed to the two, Louis especially, and considering the situation and being recorded, well, you could say he acquires _some_ reason for the sudden self-consciousness.

Louis’ eyes are obscured by the view of Harry staring at him, his face holding the utmost confidence, appearing as if he had been anticipating this for a very long time. Nonetheless, Louis continues to stay relaxed, or at least his brain is attempting to calm his nerves and the trembling of his hands—surely an effect from the alcohol—and with one final confidence push, he leaps over to the table, picking up the shot and handing it to Niall, carrying a lime half and a salt shaker, and walking back to Harry.

“Put it in his mouth,” Niall tells him.

Louis does just that, the lime now fitting inside Harry’s mouth so that the edible part is facing Louis. That makes Louis nervous, his stomach flutter with expectation. He considers himself lucky that he’s pretty damn close to wasted, and hopefully this shot would fully ruin him.  

“Pull up a chair or lay down, whatever you want,” the Irishman says, directing the camera toward Harry who first just stares at him with a blankness to his expression.

“Can’t I just stand?”

Niall shrugs. “That will make it harder.” Then he grins, looking a million times more excited. “Yes. Do it.” Niall nears the two, holding the shot above Harry’s chest.

Louis pours salt over his hand and drops to his knees, looking up at Harry. Maybe it’s the compromising position, but Louis is suddenly more nervous than ever.

“Okay, go,” he says anyway, licking the salt from his hands. Niall is quick to tilt the glass, the clear liquid pouring down Harry’s chest. It reaches a few centimeters above his trousers before Louis is pressing his mouth to the boy’s skin, licking the vodka up to his belly button. Harry tries not to shake at the touch, but a sign of arousal shoots through him as Louis’ tongue wavers over his stomach. Louis blinks hard at the acrid taste, desperately ready for the lime. Jumping to his feet, he doesn’t waste a second to look at Harry before connecting his lips to the fruit, squeezing out some of the juice without touching Harry’s mouth.

Harry almost shudders at the proximity, a little irritated that he hadn’t gotten so much as a kiss out of that. At the same time, he’s relieved that it’s over; he doesn’t want to make this more awkward than it already is.

“Your turn, Harry.”

“What?” Harry turns his head sharply to Niall’s, Louis not even a little surprised at his request.

“It’s only fair.”

“How is it fair? You can’t just add onto a dare. It’s not even your turn.” Harry’s not against it, obviously, but he doesn’t want to sound too eager either.

“You’re right,” Niall realises. “It’s Louis’.”

Louis grins, ecstatic; none of them can lie, they all see this coming. “I dare you to do a shot off my body.”

“I didn’t even—”

“Well?” Louis raises an eyebrow.

Harry doesn’t even have to think about it. “Fine. Just…just give me a second.” He walks to the table and pours himself a shot, not quite sure if he can do this. With all the images already pouring in his head, it’s definite that Harry has had these fantasies in the past without any possibility of ever pursuing them. And so he takes a quick shot, already feeling his mind turn to mush. He wants to feel everything; he wants to remember everything that’s happened today. But there’s nothing wrong with some liquid-confidence.

Harry turns around to see Louis’ bare chest, his sun-kissed skin and the slight hair designating down and those perfect, perfect collarbones—Harry wants to lick them for eternity because they deserved that kind of praise—ceases to calm Harry’s nerves with the realisation that he’s finally going to touch them, finally going to do something after months of nothing.

“Can we get on with it?” Niall complains, adjusting his hold on the camera. “I’m gonna run out of space.”

With everything in place, Harry takes the salt into his mouth, watching as the shot drips down the muscles across Louis’ torso. He seems to have forgotten the situation, and so the vodka reaches the top of Louis’ trousers, continuing to go further down.

“Oops,” Harry says, looking up at Louis for approval before pulling down his pants slightly, running his tongue along the skin and ignoring the fact that he’s centimeters away from the ultimate prize. Surprised to find that Louis shaves down there, he traces his tongue from the designated area and back up to the top of Louis’ chest, rising from the ground as he does so. Louis’ stomach wriggles beneath his mouth, his breaths shaky with the rising and falling of his chest. Harry takes the lime from Louis’ mouth, and because he is still wild and ecstatic from that intense moment, he doesn’t think straight and is quick to press their lips together with the lime between them.

He seems to have caught Louis off guard, and so the fruit is knocked into his mouth, their lips still smashing together forcefully. Harry pulls away with breaths desperate to escape him, instead leaving his body through his nose. Louis’ pupils are darkened, his eyes widened, still surprised at the sudden action.

“Oh,” Niall says, speaking for everyone in the room.

“Another,” Louis demands, nodding his head with certainty. “I’ll lay down this time.”

“Louis, the lime—” Niall gestures at the lime Harry is holding in his hand, the same one that had been in his mouth only seconds ago. “Put it in your pants.”

“Where? What?” Louis only shows signs of confusion for a brief second before looking back at Harry and grinning. “Okay.”

Niall frowns at the different tune of music—a melodic piano piece. He glances at the screen with a chuckle. “This isn’t even the right channel. What the fuck.” He changes it to a song with a heavier feel to it, completely instrumental, but something that might be played in a club, with a filthy but sensual feel to it.

Louis is laying down on the ground with Harry sitting beside him. Niall brings over an entire bottle of rum, pouring just a small fraction into Louis’ belly button, causing the boy’s body to flinch slightly at the warm liquid. Harry bends over Louis’ body to lick out the dark liquid quickly.

“Take off your pants,” Niall orders him.

At first Louis just stares at him and laughs, slightly embarrassed.

“You have to, c’mon.”

A blush overcomes Louis as he fights the urge to smile shyly. He wriggles out of his red skinnies, taking him a whole thirty seconds (those pants are tight, okay?). He tugs on his waistband, pulling off his underwear and revealing a sprouting semi to the other boys and the camera.

“Oh, wow,” Niall says with amazement. “I guess—oh.”

You can say Harry’s quite in awe, too, staring at the lime lying right above his member. He gulps thickly, still not sure if he can do it.

“Here.” Niall reaches down and picks up the lime, thankfully without touching anything. Still, Louis’ breath hitches at even the slightest contact, and he flinches even more when he notices Niall squeezing the lime over him.

“Hey, easy there!”

“Relax, I won’t get it on your dick.” He didn’t; he got it right _above_ it. “Now lick it off, Harry.”

Without even sparing a glance at Louis, Harry reaches down and licks the juice away completely, slowly and carefully. Louis inhales and exhales sharply, trying not to think too much of it. It’s a little hard to, though, forget that his best mate is barely millimeters away from his dick, and Louis doesn’t really know what to make of that. At first he blames it on his alcohol-induced hormones, but then it comes to his attention that Harry’s mouth is over his dick.

It’s an accident, really. Louis is already partially hard, so Harry goes for it, covering his cock with his mouth, moving painfully slowly. Louis makes small noises of approval, but he’s mostly confused but also astonished, and he’s not going to question it. He doesn’t know how much he’s been wanting it until now, how much he’s been craving for Harry’s touch for the past few months, how he’s never known the answer to his always-haywire hormones and emotions.

“Shit,” Niall musters out, holding the camera at the perfect angle to catch them, as if they were shooting porn. Correction, they _are._

It only takes a few tantalising licks here and there, Louis’ breaths growing shorter and faster, and Harry feels a warm and gooey liquid gather in his mouth. He’s unsure of what to do with it first, but finds the courage to swallow it despite the odd, salty sensation. He sits back up to look at Louis, whose chest is moving with the steady breaths leaving his mouth.

“I—uh, wow. That was—oh,” Harry finds himself saying, truly speaking for all of them. Niall’s still taken aback by what he’d witnessed, and Louis still trying to catch his breath.

Niall points the camera to the ground, finally turning it off. He looks at the two boys with a shocked expression. “So, uh. Harry, it’s your turn.”

“Okay. Truth or dare.”

“Truth.”

Harry glances down at Louis’ stunned face and then his still-hard cock, and finally back at Niall. “Would it be terrible to ask you to leave the room? Just for a little bit?”

All it takes for Niall to agree is to look at the two boys and the scene set in front of him. He nods diligently, realising he’s now awkwardly here as a third wheel.

“Ten minutes. That’s it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the sequel :)   
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/866120


End file.
